Beautiful Things
by October'sEnd
Summary: Draco Malfoy lost faith in the human race when he was eight. Then Narcissa and Lucius found him - the perfect blond-haired, silver-eyed boy to take home. But he is hard to heal. The story of Draco's past & an explanation for his dark behavior. Abuse, AU.


**Beautiful Things**

Narcissa was told she could not conceive, so together with Lucius they searched for the perfect blond-haired, silver-eyed baby boy to adopt. The story of Draco's hidden past and an explanation for his dark behavior.

**Chapter One**

Damien stared at himself in the cracked mirror and began to hate himself. Blond hair. Fair skin. Peculiar silver eyes. Not a particularly beautiful child - but not an ugly one either. So why did every passing couple look at him with such disinterested eyes? What did the other children possess that he didn't? Damien's knuckles went white as he clutched the sides of the cracked bathroom sink. Today would be different, he thought to himself. Today he would get himself adopted.

Damien slicked his hair to the side, pinched his sallow cheeks to make them rosy, rearranged his faded clothes, and regarded his appearance with a cool eye. Every year that he got older at the House of Hope's Orphanage, the further he got away from getting adopted. Couples usually wanted to adopt very young children - babies, toddlers - and Damien was no longer a little boy anymore. Damien was almost positive that this year would be his last year to get himself adopted. He was already eight-years-old. Any older, and no couple would even look his way.

"Come on, Damien. The adults are here." Madeline said, and steered Damien towards the sitting room. Madeline Wilkinson was the organizer for all these adoption open house events. Every few months, House of Hope would open its doors to couples seeking to adopt.

Damien shrugged Madelin's hands off his shoulders and took a deep breath. He plastered the happiest smile he could manage under the circumstances, and observed the adults. All sorts of couples were here. Young couples that were unable to conceive children on their own, old couples that were lonely, and rich couples that were bored and probably needed a little excitement.

One couple in particular captured Damien's attention. If he didn't know any better, he could say that he was somehow related to them. The man had a powerful presence, sleek white-blond hair, steely gray eyes, and a pale complexion. His wife had the same blond hair, but with deep, neverending blue eyes. The two of them looked extremely wealthy, with thick fur coats and glittering jewelry, but they were obviously disinterested in the children around them.

That is, until they saw Damien.

The man took a brief look at Damien and turned his back to him to speak to his wife. He leaned into his wife's ear and whispered something. Something important? Her eyes flickered and searched the room before settling on Damien. Damien suddenly felt very uncomfortable with their eyes on him. He turned, fully intent on introducing himself to the other couples, and smiled at a nearby older couple.

They came toward him and he introduced himself, but they only made polite talk and moved on to the next child. He made his rounds around the room - unsuccessfully - and sighed in defeat after he met every single couple.

He never noticed the blond haired couple quietly leaving without speaking to the other children.

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That night, after lights out, Damien quietly lifted the thin sheet off of his body and crept out of his room. He shared the room with two other boys - both younger than him - and they were oblivious to his nightly wanderings. It wasn't a wander, but more of a mission for food.

The House of Hope had a very misleading name. It was not a place of hope, no matter how hard Madeline tried to make it. It was a place where the corrupted Director cheated the children of money that benefactors donated. He also terrorized the children daily, making the House of Hope more like the House of Hell.

Damien abhorred the Director, Mr. Goodman - he scoffed at his ironic last name - with every fiber of his being. Damien had been a part of House of Hope since he was two years old when he was first dropped off at the doorsteps on one brisk autumn day. He couldn't remember anything about his first family, and didn't wish to. They obviously didn't want him if they dropped him off at such a disgusting orphanage. As a result, Damien grew up with a wary eye and defensive personality.

Damien's thoughts were broken when he heard the far-off thump of footsteps. He paused and delicately crouched by the wall, hoping whoever it was in the hall would go away. No such luck. The steps quickened, and Damien knew he had to hide or run. He crawled to the closest door and reached out to the doorknob, but was stopped cold by a hand. It clamped down unexpectedly hard on his right shoulder. Damien muffled a shout and fell back on his elbows, getting a glimpse of Mr. Goodman.

Mr. Goodman had leery brown eyes and a sweaty forehead. Droplets ran down from the roots of his hair and into his eyes, making him look like he was always squinting. Damien took two quick shuffles back with his elbows, putting some distance between himself and the Director, and tried to get his racing heart to calm.

"S-sir," Damien stammered.

"You're supposed to be in bed, boy." Mr. Goodman said in an oily voice.

"I know, sir. I'm very sorry, sir. I was just thirsty and - " Damien's explanation was cut short when Mr. Goodman gave a quick, stinging slap to Damien's left cheek, leaving a bright hand print on his delicate pallor. Damien's head snapped to the side, but no sounds escaped from his mouth.

"Damien, Damien. You are breaking the rules, and there is only one fix for mischievous boys like you who think they are _above _the rules. Come with me," said Mr. Goodman. He reached down and caught Damien's ear between his fingers and twisted hard, making Damien give a soft cry as he was lifted from the floor. Mr. Goodman dragged Damien through the corridors and dropped him into his office. Damien fell to the floor in front of the Director, who was looking down at him with gleaming eyes.

"If I allow one boy to escape without a punishment, _all _the boys will think they are allowed to run rampant. You understand that, right? Damien?"

"Yes, sir. I do," Damien said solemnly and pushed himself to his feet. "Where would you like me, sir?" he asked. Mr. Goodman walked towards a corner cabinet and removed a thin, flexible cane.

"Over the desk, boy." Mr. Goodman ordered. Damien obediently dropped his trousers - that's just how Mr. Goodman ran his orphanage - and lowered himself down onto the cool surface of the desk and gripped the end. He was too small though, and had to tip-toe.

"Six stripes, for being caught out of bed after curfew." He said.

"Yes, sir." Damien said and quietly waited for the blows. They came painfully slow, each stroke executed with precision, waiting for each stripe to dull off before laying over it with another. Damien made a keening noise in the back of his throat after each stripe, but did not cry out or beg. He only allowed himself a quiet sob at the end, when Mr. Goodman layed it on particularly heavy.

"Get your snivelling face off my desk and get to bed." Mr. Goodman snapped, and discarded the cane on the coffee table.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Damien sniffled, and scampered out of the office.

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Damien lay on his front with his trousers and shorts down, to allow his newly acquired injuries to breathe. The boys slept on, while Damien silently seethed in his head. Damien wished he had a loving family, instead of these dreadful humans called people at House of Hope. Damien's eyes fluttered close, almost drifting off to an uneasy sleep, when he felt soft hands brush his yellow locks of hair away from his forehead.

Damien eyes shot open and bore into the black room, trying to make sense of the dark outline. His bed dipped as the person sat at the edge of the mattress. Damien froze as the hands continued to brush his hair.

"M-Miss Wilkinson - " Damien realized, as her face turned towards the moonlight.

"Shh..." She whispered quietly, and put a finger to his lips. Damien jerked as he felt her touch his injuries, and tried to move away, but she gripped his hand and pinned him to the mattress.

"Let me help you," she insisted, and began to massage his sore behind with a cool lotion. Damien was very uncomfortable with the situation, wishing she would just leave and let him deal with his own problems, but at the same time, the lotion felt incredibly good. Until her hands started to wander.

Her hands slipped towards his naked front, and Damien jolted back with surprised.

"N-no," he whispered desperately, and began to push upwards with his body to dislodge her hold on him. She put a lavender scented hand over his mouth and leaned in to whisper into his ear.

"It's okay, Damien, nothing's wrong." She said softly, and began to softly stroke. Damien whimpered, unable to scream, and tried to bite her fingers off. Madeline frowned and tightened her hold on him.

"I thought you liked me, Damien. Aren't I a nice person? I help you, I've always helped you." She said, a small note of anger apparent in her voice. "If you keep struggling, I'll tell Mr. Goodman how bad you've been."

Damien froze, weighing the situation in his mind. Wilkinson was betraying him. There was now not a single person on this Earth he trusted. He slumped, defeat written in the way his body melted into the mattress.

"That's a good boy," she whispered, and patted Damien on the cheek. Damien closed his eyes, shuddering at her touch, and felt a single tear fall from the corner of his eye.

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Narcissa swirled the red wine in her goblet before taking a small sip. She balanced the goblet on the thick balcony railing and turned her gaze towards her husband, Lucius Malfoy.

"And he is a wizard?" she asked carefully. Lucius stood beside his wife and placed a gloved hand over her trembling hand.

"He is a wizard." Lucius stated. "The spell we used directed us towards any orphanages with magical signatures. There is no mistake, Narcissa. He is of wizarding descent, living in a muggle orphanage."

Narcissa leaned towards Lucius and rested her head on his shoulder.

"He is beautiful," she breathed, clutching Lucius' back. Lucius looked at the full moon and held her to his chest.

"Yes, he will do."

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**Thanks for reading, if you are. This is a bit different, I hope, from any Malfoy story you've read so far. Or will be different. Review with your thoughts on this!**


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